


Under-Tales

by alicedragons



Series: Follower Milestones and Random Drabbles [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Swapfell KH, Twistfell, chapters tagged individually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:37:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicedragons/pseuds/alicedragons
Summary: A series of Undertale drabbles and one-shots, mostly pertaining to the skeleton crew and the nonsense they get up to.Chapters are tagged and rated individually. Mostly SFW.





	1. Author's Note

A series of arbitrary drabbles and one-shots posted from my tumblr. Mostly Papcest, but there might be sprinklings of other ships in here. ~~Okay, no. It's pretty much all Papcest at the moment.~~

Please see the individual chapter notes for ships, warnings, ratings, and tags. No smut here, but things are still likely to get fairly suggestive.


	2. Giftmas - Secret Santa 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Secret Santa gift to Hachiquius for the 2017 Secret Summer event. Just some Mapleblossom Christmas fluff ^_^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Ship: Mapleblossom (SF Papyrus/UT Papyrus)  
> Tags: Fluff  
> Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild alcohol consumption, low self-worth

Papyrus cast another weary glance in the direction of the front door, still clinging to the glimmer of hope that it might open at any second. Despite the vibrancy of the party around him, he felt glum. He wandered across the living room with a sigh, pushing through the crowds. He smiled at his guests as he passed them, but if felt forced, and he was grateful when he made it to the empty kitchen.

Alone was the last place Papyrus wanted to be. But somehow, being alone by himself felt a lot better than being alone in a crowded room. He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table, resting his chin on his crossed arms. The clock on the wall told him it was almost midnight, and Papyrus silently prayed it would come soon. Yesterday, he would have given anything to fast forward time to the party. Now, he only wanted it to end.

Papyrus jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, startled by the sudden contact. He turned quickly, then slumped as he saw who it was. “Oh—Sans. Hello.”

His brother smiled wryly, a drink in his hand. Papyrus hoped he hadn’t had too much. His brother wasn’t renowned for his alcohol tolerance. “heh, sorry bro. did i scare you outta your skin?” Papyrus frowned at the pun, but found he didn’t have the energy to scold Sans for it. “mind if i sit with you?” Papyrus shrugged his indifference, and Sans’ forced smile faded slightly as he dropped onto the chair beside him. He was silent for a moment, but Papyrus could tell his brother knew what was bothering him. “any word from…?” Papyrus shook his head, and Sans nodded, still smiling. “he’ll show. don’t you worry.”

Papyrus swallowed against the heavy lump forming in his throat, and shook his head. “Well… he hasn’t texted me back since this morning, so… I’m beginning to have my doubts.” He stared at the dark wooden table, one of his fingers tracing idly over the thin cracks. Admitting it out loud felt like a blow to the chest.

Sans said nothing, but Papyrus could feel the pity emanating from him. Papyrus hated being pitied, but he didn’t protest as Sans placed an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into the touch slightly, fighting back tears. “hey, it’s alright bro,” Sans murmured as a silent sob escaped Papyrus. “you’ve still got a lot of people here who care about you. i know you were really looking forward to seeing him, but…”

“He needs us, Sans,” Papyrus said, his voice quivering slightly through the uncontrollable sobs that now wracked his chest. “He doesn’t deserve that awful place he calls his home, and… it’s Giftmas Eve. He should be happy on a night like this. I only want him to know that he has people who care about him.” Papyrus frowned as he heard Sans chuckling quietly. He pulled away slightly to glare at his brother. “Sans, is this amusing to you? Because, really brother, I’m not in the mood for—”

“ah, sorry paps,” Sans said, shaking his head. His laughter faded, and he looked up at Papyrus, smiling sadly. “you just—you’re a lot like him, you know.”

Papyrus gave a slight frown. He could almost sense the impending ‘you’re practically the same person’ joke. “How so?” he asked, sniffing. “I do believe we’re rather different, Sans.”

Sipping at his drink, Sans waved him off. “ah, don’t worry about it. you… you really care about him, don’t you?”

Papyrus blinked, before shaking his head. “Well—yes, of course I do, Sans! He is very great! And my friend. And—”

Sans grinned, cocking a brow bone in dubiety. “friend? sure you didn’t want to lure him here just so you could catch him under the mistletoe?”

Heat rose to Papyrus’ cheekbones, and he quickly shook his head, flustered. “D-don’t be crass, brother!” He sighed, standing. “I’m sorry, Sans. I fear I’m… not quite in the mood for your jests. I think I’ll just return to the party.” Soul heavy, he turned to leave. ****

“hey bro?” Sans called as Papyrus reached the door. Papyrus glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting another jape at his expense, but Sans’ smile was soft. “he cares about you too, you know.”

Papyrus was bewildered for a moment, blinking. “H-he—well, yes! I know that! O-of course…” He trailed off, turning to hide his blush. “I should get back…”

“he’ll come.” Papyrus glanced back up. Sans’ eyes no longer held any of their light-hearted amusement, a strange fierceness to his expression. “trust me on this, paps. if he cares about you as much as you care about him…” Shaking his head, Sans gave a soft laugh. “eh, what do i know?” He lifted his glass, the humour returning to his tone. “’m just an old drunk.”

Papyrus shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn’t one to admit to needing help, but sometimes, his brother’s comfort was much appreciated. His soul had warmed just a little at the words, and he managed to produce a small smile. “Thank you, Sans… m-merry Giftmas.”

Sans nodded, an alleviating sense of understanding in his eyes. “merry giftmas, bro.”

 

****

 

Slim hesitated as he reached the door, his hand trembling a little as he raised it to knock. There was a chill breeze outside, and small flakes of snow had begun to fall. Slim didn’t mind the cold so much—owing to his lack of skin—but he still felt grim, his soul seeming to weigh too much. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to convince his brother to attend Papyrus and Sans’ party. Razz was stubborn, refusing to abandon his errands and paperwork, even for just a night.  _ ~~Errands? What an excuse! It’s your fault he didn’t come.~~_

When his brother had declined the invitation, Slim had felt dejected. Now he just felt empty. Lonely. A part of him had hoped that the festive season might bring out the softer side of his brother that he so seldom revealed to others—even to Slim himself. Perhaps it was nerves, but Slim almost wished he hadn’t come.  _ ~~You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have come.~~_

He still wasn’t entirely sure why he  _had_  bothered coming. He knew Papyrus had likely only invited him to be polite—he wasn’t exactly much fun at parties.  _ ~~No one wants you here.~~  _Still, the thought of seeing the enthusiastic skeleton brought a little light to the dim thoughts churning in Slim’s mind. Papyrus was always nice to him. And even if he was just being polite, Slim liked people who were nice to him. Papyrus especially…

He quickly gathered his resolve, lifting his fist and knocking before his sudden confidence could wear off. He could hear the sound of loud chatter and laughter from inside, the beat of music playing in the background. Slim wondered if Edge and Red had come. He knew they were closer with their Tale verse counterparts than he and Razz were, but he also had a first-hand understanding of how difficult it could be coming to a world so different from your own.

The mere idea of mingling with the guests at this party almost frightened Slim. Social encounters had never quite been his forte—even in his own world, where things made sense to him. Perhaps he could try and stick close to Papyrus for most of the night.  _ ~~Clinginess isn’t a desirable trait. Don’t be bothersome.~~_  Or perhaps he should just keep to himself.  _ ~~How disrespectful. At least attempt to interact.~~_ He didn’t know many of Papyrus’ friends. Perhaps if Edge and Red were here, he could…  _ ~~Typical. A whole world of soft-hearted Tale verse monsters and you choose the only two Fell ones. You truly are damaged~~. _ Anxiety suddenly gripped Slim’s soul, and his thoughts became scrambled and panicked.  _ ~~You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have—~~_

Slim turned away from the door, hands clenched into fists where they were shoved in his pockets. He pushed down the flicker of guilt as his fingers brushed the small, wrapped box he’d almost forgotten about. Well. It didn’t matter now.  _ ~~He would have hated it anyway.~~_

Just as he reached the porch steps, he heard the door opening behind him. He spun, and his soul fluttered in his chest as his gaze landed on Papyrus, who was standing in the doorway. A broad smile crossed his face. “SLIM!” he cried, rushing forward and pulling Slim into a crushing hug.

Slim immediately went rigid, the sudden contact sending both excitement and shock through him. Papyrus neither seemed to notice nor care though, keeping his arms tightly locked around Slim—perhaps for just a few seconds too long. When he drew away, he was beaming, his cheekbones bright and flushed. “You’re here!” Slim smiled weakly and nodded, pushing away the thought of his brief escape attempt. “This is truly a wonderful turn of events!” Papyrus declared, and Slim chuckled quietly, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. It was difficult not to respond in kind to Papyrus’ unbridled jubilance.  _ ~~It’s not genuine.~~_

They both stood in silence for a moment, Slim’s fingers fumbling over the small box in his pocket. He suddenly felt nervous again. He could feel the pace of his soul quickening in his ribcage, and he swallowed.  _ ~~Papyrus doesn’t really want you here. He’s only being cordial because he’s too polite to ask you to leave. He was probably hoping you wouldn’t show up. He’s probably disappointed that you did. You’re far too rough around the edges. Far too **damaged**. Someone as remarkable as Papyrus deserves so much better. Just make an excuse and leave. Leave. Leave now.  **Leave** —~~_

“You… look, um… very nice t-tonight.” Papyrus’ words broke Slim from his reverie, and he blinked, glancing down at his ratty hoodie and faded jeans. Well. They were his best pair of jeans (or rather, his cleanest pair).

“th-thank you,” he muttered, feeling uncertain of himself. Before he could lose his nerve, he hurriedly withdrew the box from his pocket and thrust it into Papyrus’ hands.

Papyrus looked a little startled for a moment, pale orange blush still lingering on his cheeks. But as he met Slim’s gaze, a smile quickly spread across his face. “Is this a gift… for me?” he asked, voice abnormally quiet. Slim nodded, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rolled his shoulders, shrinking a little into his hood. He could feel the beginnings of a blush rising to his cheekbones.  _ ~~Hide it. You’ll look like an idiot if he notices.~~_  Ecstatic, Papyrus quickly removed the wrappings, peeking beneath the lid of the small box.

Slim couldn’t help but glance away.  _ ~~He hates it.~~_  But Papyrus’ joy immediately became apparent as glee coloured his features in the shape of a broad grin. Slim looked up as Papyrus extracted the small red toy car from its box, eye-lights going bright. “Slim, it’s—exquisite!”

Slim couldn’t suppress his sheepish grin, and he averted his eyes. “sorry…” he murmured, softly.

“Sorry? Slim—there is no need to apologise! This gift is—”

“the garbage dump didn’t have any in your size.”

Slim dared a glance up and watched as Papyrus’ expression morphed from confusion, to suspicion, and finally, into downright disgust.  _ ~~He hates it. He hates it. He hates **you**.~~  _But despite his outrage, it was difficult not to notice the small smile Papyrus appeared to be trying very hard to hide. “Slim,” Papyrus started, a strain to his voice. “My dear friend—as great as you are, I am afraid I cannot tolerate such lazy jokes. You know very well that they drive me up the wall.”

Slim blinked, but before he could open his mouth to react to what he was certain had been a pun, Papyrus’ arms were around him again. “Thank you for the gift. I shall cherish it with true fondness.”

Slim was stunned for a moment, freezing. He felt unsure of himself again, a cold trickle of doubt emerging in his soul. That voice inside his head whispered to him again.  _He doesn’t mean it._

But… surely such a pure display of compassion couldn’t be false? When Papyrus hugged him, it felt… It felt a little like sitting in front of a warm fire. Or drinking a nice hot mug of Muffet’s secret hot chocolate recipe. Or falling asleep to the sound of gently pattering snow on the roof. Slim wasn’t sure such a feeling could be faked.

Drawing on every ounce of his courage, he returned Papyrus’ hug, resting his head on the exuberant skeleton’s shoulder. A pleasant warmth settled in his chest, easing his misgivings—just slightly. He closed his eyes, and revelled in the feeling of Papyrus’ arms. It wasn’t often that Slim was allowed to feel at peace. To relax and indulge in the sweeter things in life. Like chocolate. And singing while he cooked. And hugging Papyrus. They were all things he wanted to get used to.  _ ~~You don’t deserve them.~~_

“Are you happy, Slim?” Papyrus asked. His voice was soft, and his proximity sent a small shiver of tranquillity through Slim. The question was strange, Slim thought. It was so direct. Unveiled. Papyrus wasn’t trying to trick him. This wasn’t a game. There was no deceit, only pure honesty. Papyrus genuinely wanted to know.

_~~Lie.~~ _

Slim wouldn’t lie to Papyrus. He owed him the truth. “not always.” The admission somehow seemed to marginally alleviate the burden of Slim’s soul. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he felt Papyrus’ arms tightening around him.

“And now?”

“now, i’m happy.” The words came easily, and they didn’t feel like a lie.

Papyrus was silent for a time, but his arms still enclosed Slim, the intent behind the embrace pure and unmarred. Slim could hear his soft breathing, and the sound of the gentle wind accompanying it. Eventually, Papyrus sighed deeply, and Slim felt him nodding. “Good. Then I won’t let go.”

Slim suddenly realised he was crying, and for a brief second, he startled, going tense. His tears stained Papyrus’ scarf, and he sucked in a sharp breath, an apology already forming in his mouth.

But then he felt a faint glimmer of magic emanating from Papyrus; almost intangible projections of kindness, warmth, care. Slim couldn’t tell if they were involuntary, but he felt something unknot itself in his chest. He closed his eyes, and pressed himself into the nape of Papyrus’ neck. “merry giftmas,” he whispered, not bothering to hold his tears back. They were the good kind of tears. Perhaps not happy ones, but good nonetheless.

The surge of energetic magic that flowed through Papyrus was almost immediate—too powerful not to notice. There was only one emotion present in it, and the feeling of it was almost enough to make Slim’s soul glow.  _Love._

 _He cares about you,_ said the voice,  _and it’s real._


	3. Edgelord Giggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Sansy-Fresh. Just some typical Spicyhoney fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Ship: Spicyhoney (UF Papyrus/US Papyrus)  
> Tags: Fluff, tickling  
> Warnings: None

Stretch pushed open the front door to the living room, humming softly to himself. He glanced up at the sound of the couch shifting, and grinned. “heya, edgelord.”

Edge spared him a brief tilt of his head, before sighing and turning away. “Not in the mood, Ashtray.”

Stretch cocked a brow bone, walking curiously around the couch to look at Edge. His features were set with weariness—eye-lights dim and sockets heavily lidded. “rough day?” Stretch asked, slumping into the cushions beside him.

Edge’s sockets narrowed as he surveyed Stretch, as if trying to decide whether he was a threat or not. Eventually he turned away, pulling his legs up to his chest and leaning back. “That’s not really your concern, is it?”

Stretch’s grin faded a little, but he shook his head, determined not to let Edge shut him out. “well, if my boyfr—” Stretch caught himself, quickly snapping his mouth shut. Thankfully, Edge didn’t seem to notice his slip, so he continued. “if my friend is upset, that’s definitely a concern of mine.” Stretch reached into his pocket for his lighter; he knew he’d surpassed his (self-imposed) daily limit of smokes, but the lighter itself was always a welcome distraction. He flicked it, watching as the flame danced for a second, before disappearing. “so, what’s eating you? or is the problem that no one’s eating you?” Stretch winked, but Edge seemed unperturbed by his callous flirting.

That… wasn’t good. Normally Edge was very receptive to flirting—even on his ‘grumpy days’. Stretch shifted a little closer, quickly shoving the lighter back in his pocket. He moved to place his arm around Edge’s shoulders, before reconsidering, and tucking it awkwardly against his side. “do you, uh, want to talk?” Damn it. Stretch wasn’t exactly versed at the whole ‘comfort’ thing.

Edge hadn’t moved, but Stretch could see his eyes darting in his direction. “Just…” Edge took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Just talk about something stupid—like honey, or cigarettes, or…” Edge finally turned to look at Stretch, who was shocked at the raw vulnerability in his expression. “Please?”

Stretch swallowed, a little wrong-footed. While he’d normally be more than happy to provide a stream of babble for Edge to latch onto, he felt a little thrown off. “edge, are you…?”

“No.” Edge stared at him, his complexion almost waxy. Stretch could see his fingers quivering slightly where they were clutched around his arms. “Just… talk. Distract me.”

“um…” For once, Stretch’s mind was blank. Edge was watching him, his gaze intense and desperate. And Stretch… was at a loss.  _Calm down,_ he urged himself.  _He just needs you to distract him from…_ Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge was trying to avoid thinking about, but he knew questioning him about it wouldn’t help.

Since speech didn’t seem achievable at the moment, Stretch decided to adopt a different tactic. Leaning forward, he said, “bet i can make you laugh.”

Edge frowned, suspicion creeping into his expression. “No puns… I’m really not equipped to deal with—”

“i don’t need puns to make you laugh.” Stretch grinned, shuffling even closer. Resting a hand on Edge’s shoulder, he whispered, “say, edgelord, are you ticklish?”

Edge’s eye-lights reduced to pinpricks, and Stretch heard him swallowing. “I—no, of course I’m not—ah, Stretch—!”

Without a hint of mercy or restraint, Stretch dug the tips of his fingers between Edge’s ribs. “not ticklish?” He hummed, contemplatively. “i dunno, edgy, that sounds like a lie.” He couldn’t repress a small laugh of his own as Edge began to giggle—entirely involuntarily it seemed, but that only delighted Stretch further.

“Stretch—please—ah! Stop! Gah, you’re—s-such a—ha!” Edge couldn’t seem to enunciate more than a short string of words, twitching and writhing beneath Stretch’s fingers. His laughter became uncontrolled and high pitched as Stretch’s fingers found his true ribs. He released a small squeak as Stretch pushed him onto his back, kneeling over him with an almost sadistic grin on his face.

“aw, edgelord? am i really that funny? i’m flattered, honestly.”

Edge shook his head, though the laughter spilling from his mouth didn’t quite assist in emphasizing the point. “Fuck—stop! Ah—asshole!” Stretch could tell that Edge was trying very hard to glare, but the tears of laughter that had begun to form in the corners of his eye sockets reduced much of the impact.

Stretch breathed a huff of laughter, fondness blooming in his soul. “you’re adorable, edge. i should really do this more often. i love seeing you laugh.” Stretch halted suddenly, quickly pulled away. He grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. “uh well, got you to laugh, didn’t i?”

“Yeah,” Edge said dryly, still a little breathless. “You’re completely hilarious.” Sitting up, Edge pressed forward without warning, his chest inches from Stretch’s. “But I think there’s a better way you could cheer me up.”

Stretch barely had time to blink before Edge’s hands were wrapped around the back of his neck, and their mouths were pressed together. Startled, Stretch froze, his mind taking a few seconds to catch up. But slowly, he returned the kiss, his tongue manifesting in his mouth in response to the taste of Edge’s magic. Stretch cupped Edge’s skull gently, melting against him with a sigh.

They’d shared numerous kisses over the past few weeks, each more blissful than the last. Stretch’s soul pulsed with excitement, and he inhaled Edge’s scent as he drew away slowly. Edge’s cheeks were flushed with red magic… and he was smiling. “so, uh…” Stretch’s gaze flitted to the carpet, and he chuckled. “i take it operation ‘comfort the edgelord’ was a success?”

Edge rolled his eyes, but managed a small smile, his cheekbones still glowing. “Yes, I… thanks.” He leaned forward, cradling Stretch’s hands in his own. A pleasant warmth spread from Stretch’s fingertips inward. “But,” Edge said, his expression darkening, “if you tickle me again—I’ll break your fucking fingers.”


	4. Half a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a birthday gift for Painty (sorry Painty). This is pretty much pure angst (with... a sprinkling of fluff?).  
>  _Edge had almost convinced himself he was done forgiving Stretch. Almost..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Ship: Spicyhoney and Implied Honeyvenom  
> Tags: Angst, Skelepreg, Heartbreak  
> Warnings: Cheating, Reference to threatened forced pregnancy termination

“look, stretch, he doesn’ wanna see ya. i think ya should just leave.”

Edge exhaled sharply, closing his book and placing it on his desk. He’d been trying to tune out the voices downstairs, but had met with little success. Silently rising from his seat, he pulled on his jacket and made for his bedroom door.

“red,  _please,_ i—i just need to talk to him. just for five minutes.” Stretch’s desperate plea left a gaping hole inside Edge, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  _You can do this,_ he assured himself.  _He’s hurt you more times than you can count. Just say the word. Just tell him you don’t want him here._

“ye’ve screwed ‘im over one too many times,” came Red’s frustrated sigh. “ya don’t get five minutes.”

Edge’s hand shook where it hovered over the doorknob.  _Deep breath._ He turned it slowly, creeping toward the stairs. A muffled sob from Stretch halted him, and he swallowed,  _willing_ himself not to let it affect him.

“red, please—”

“ _leave,_ stretch.”

“Red,” Edge called, hearing the defeat in his own voice. Red’s gaze snapped up to him, eye sockets going wide.

“boss? ya don’ need ta see this, i was just tellin’ ‘im ta leave—”

“Let him in.”

The shock on Red’s face quickly morphed into frustration, and he clenched his teeth. “paps. ya can’t keep givin’ ‘im second chances. he’s not—”

“I wasn’t aware you controlled my decisions, brother,” Edge said coldly, descending the remainder of the stairs. Red scowled, but held his silence.  _Tell me to stop, Red. Tell me that I’m being irrational—an idiot. Don’t let me do this._ When Edge reached the door, his soul seemed to jar in his chest at the sight of Stretch. He looked pale – even for a skeleton – a sallow tinge to his cheekbones. Weariness was set in his features, and there was a downtrodden slump to his shoulders.

Edge already knew there was no way he’d be able to turn him away—no matter what Stretch asked of him. “What do you want?” he asked, already feeling exhausted.

“edge…” The relief in Stretch’s tone was tainted by something fearful. His eyes darted to Red, and he took a shaky breath. “c-can we talk in private?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of my brother—now tell me what you want before I slam this door.” Rage coursed Edge’s entire body, but he knew the shake of his clenched fist wasn’t just a product of anger. Seeing Stretch like this—so pathetic and desperate—kindled a deep, consuming pity within him.

“can—can i come in?” Stretch had his arms wrapped around himself, despite the warm summer air.

“if ye’ve got somethin’ ta say, spit it out,” Red growled, no longer bothering to censor his anger. Stretch visibly flinched at his words, curling in on himself and peering at Edge anxiously.

“Well?” Edge raised a brow bone, struggling to withhold his own frustration.

“i’m—i…” Stretch’s breath hitched, and tears began to form at his eye sockets. Shaking his head, he took a shuddering breath, before lifting his hoodie to expose his ribcage.

Edge narrowed his eye sockets, at first confused by the action. But then…

“yer…  _pregnant_?” All previous rage had left Red’s tone entirely, nothing but awe in its place. Edge was completely speechless, and he had to remind himself to breathe as he stared at the centre of Stretch’s ribcage. Within his own golden soul, a tiny souling hovered, barely the size of a button.

It was purple.

“It’s not mine.” Edge tore his eyes away from the souling to look Stretch in the eye, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He wanted to feel angry. He wanted to  _hate_ Stretch. No doubt the souling was at least a month old—he and Stretch had only broken up two weeks ago.

But the look on Stretch’s face extinguished any amount of anger Edge could muster. He looked  _broken._ “razz…” Stretch choked on a sob, lifting a trembling hand to wipe the tears off his cheekbones. “razz wants me to get rid of it. he said i should… t-terminate it. he said that he would—that he would do it for me if i didn’t—” Breaking off with a gasp, Stretch began to cry. He hugged himself, shaking violently as tears fell freely from his sockets.

And Edge couldn’t take it.

Without a second thought, he rushed forward, pulling Stretch against his chest, and holding him there. “You don’t have to do that,” he whispered. “I won’t let him hurt you, it’s alright.”

Stretch’s chest heaved in short gasps as he clung to Edge desperately. “i c-can’t take care of a—of a baby by myself,” he sobbed. “i’m not—i won’t be a good parent!”

Edge frowned, and glanced at his brother. Red was observing them bitterly, but there was a sense of dejection beneath the expression. It sent Edge’s soul spiralling into a pit of guilt. Red had been there for Edge every time Stretch had broken his heart.

And he’d been there every time Edge had gone running back to Stretch. He never said anything; Edge was an adult after all, capable of making his own decisions. Part of Edge wished Red would just talk some sense into him. He was so sick of this. He was  _tired._ He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. He couldn’t keep letting Stretch back into his life. He had to  _stop._

Red resented Stretch, but Edge knew he’d never be able to do the same, as much as Stretch deserved it. So, he held him. He held him tightly and didn’t let go. Taking a deep, laboured breath, he said, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll help you.”

Edge forced himself to look away from Red. He couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his brother’s expression—or worse still, the disappointment. Instead, he focused on Stretch. He focused on the feeling of Stretch’s delicate body wrapped in his arms; the soft warmth coming from Stretch’s soul; the quiet sobs that wracked Stretch’s chest. “I’ll look after you,” Edge whispered, stroking the back of Stretch’s skull. “I’ll look after you… and our baby.”

Edge couldn’t bring himself to care that the baby was half Razz. Half Fell monster, like he was. What kind of child would he be bringing into the world? What if it turned out just like him? What if—

The baby was also half Stretch. And Edge knew that if he could bring himself to love the child even half as much as he loved Stretch, it would be worth sacrificing his life for.


	5. A matter of recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Lady-Kit's horror fic ['A matter of trust'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700340/chapters/31488906). This is not the recovery these two deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Ship: Spicyhoney  
> Tags: Angst, unhappy relationship, general gloomy atmosphere  
> Warnings: Rape recovery (though rape is not explicitly mentioned), implied depression, forced relationship, unwanted soul bond

Relief flooded Edge as Rus walked through the front door. But it was hollow relief. It lacked essence. Edge didn’t like Rus… did he? Not really.

Rus smiled at him, the expression bearing the same emptiness as the feeling in Edge’s soul. “hey. what you reading?”

Edge glanced at the book in his hands, blinking. “Oh. It’s… a crime novel.” Rus lifted a brow bone, settling onto the couch beside Edge. “About…” Edge sighed, closing the book and placing it beside him. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Rus gazed at him, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “no, hey, tell me, i… want to know.” He reached a hand out, before recoiling and shoving it in his pocket. His eyes strayed from Edge’s face, settling on the carpet.

“Well, it’s about a girl who—” Edge swallowed, “I’m not sure I’d do it justice with a summary. You really ought to read it yourself.”

Rus exhaled; Edge might have mistaken it for a laugh if it weren’t for the dull look on Rus’s face. “reading’s not really my thing,” he mumbled.

“Right.” Silence fell between them, neither of them looking up. Edge could feel the tension coming off Rus, though he wasn’t certain it was his place to comment on it. He dared a glance at Rus. His arms were folded around himself, shoulders heavy and eye-lights dim. His gaze flickered up to Edge, and Edge quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “I should get started on dinner,” he said, rising. “Quiche? Is that…?”

“that’s fine,” Rus replied, not looking up. He sounded tired, the emotion seeming to emanate from him, leaving Edge’s soul heavy.

“Rus, are you…” Edge folded his hands in front of himself, inhaling slowly. “Are you okay?”

Edge was almost startled by the hoarse laugh that escaped Rus. He looked up at Edge, a cracked smile on his face. “what do you think, edge?” Again, the weariness in his tone weighed on Edge’s own soul.

Nodding stiffly, Edge sighed, unclenching his hands. “Right. Sorry, I’ll just… make dinner.” Edge cast a final glance over his shoulder as he left—at his soulmate. The word sounded hollow, even in his mind.

They ate in silence, for the most part. Occasionally, Rus would ask Edge about his work, and Edge would do the same in return. They spoke of Edge’s brother briefly, but Rus’s brother went unmentioned. Until…

“blue’s been talking to twist,” Rus murmured, before shovelling a forkful of quiche into his mouth.

Edge blinked, fork hovering above his plate, frozen. “He— _what_?”

Rus shrugged, not looking up. He was slumped in his seat, expression deadpan, but Edge could feel the agitation channelling through him. “he says razz refused to do the same, but he was hoping that…” Rus trailed off, voice going soft. “i don’t know,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

Edge was bewildered. He could only stare as Rus continued to eat in silence. He was struggling to follow suit, his appetite all but vanished. Stiffly, he uncurled his fist under the table. “And Twist?” he asked, a little shortly. “What did he have to say?” When Rus didn’t answer, Edge frowned. “Anything about his bro—”

“no,” Rus said, quickly. “he—i don’t think he said much, actually. from the sound of it, he wasn’t in a talking mood.” Rus was quiet, moving his food idly around his plate with his fork. He wasn’t looking at Edge, his eyes not leaving the table.

“What about Blue?” Edge asked. “How—did he seem okay?” He felt a little nervous breaching the question; he and Rus seldom discussed Blue—mostly for Rus’s sake. Whenever Edge brought up Rus’s brother, Rus would slump, exhaustion and despair flowing through the bond.

He seemed impartial now however, shaking his head indifferently. “he’s fine.” He paused, and for the first time, his eyes flickered up to Edge. “he and razz have started… dating.” Immediately, he glanced back down, and continued to poke at his food disinterestedly.

“Oh.” Edge swallowed back the question plaguing at his mind, nodding curtly. “Well. That’s… nice.” He frowned, quickly taking a bite of quiche to keep his mouth occupied.

“i s’pose,” Rus mumbled. He seemed to have given up on his dinner entirely, his arms wrapped around himself again. “i think i’m going to head off to bed,” he said, standing.

“Oh. Are you sure?” Edge asked, quickly rising from his seat. Rus glanced at him, brow bone raised in question. Shaking his head, Edge said, “I only mean, you don’t feel— _seem_ tired. Maybe we could… watch a movie or something?” His hands were clutched together behind his back, twisting anxiously.

Rus seemed surprised by the suggestion, but after a pause, he shrugged. “sure. why not?” His smile was weak and thin. Edge did his best to return it, though he doubted his was much better.

“I’ll clean up. Why don’t you go pick a movie?”

Rus glanced at the dirty dishes. “i can help,” he offered, barely meeting Edge’s gaze as he looked up.

Edge shook his head, already gathering the plates from the table. “Don’t bother yourself. I know you’re not very good in the kitchen.”

Rus cocked a brow bone. “they’re dishes, edgelord. i’m sure i can handle them.”

Dropping the plates in the sink, Edge regarded Rus dubiously. “Somehow, I don’t doubt your ability to set the kitchen alight—even if they are just dishes. Go on, just pick a movie, this won’t take long.”

Rus still wasn’t looking at Edge, but a small smile crossed his face. A real smile. It felt… warm. “alright,” he conceded. “but you’re not allowed to say i didn’t offer.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ashtray” Edge responded, smiling softly. His soul tingled as Rus left.

Edge rested his cheek against his palm, eyes threatening to slip closed as he watched the movie. Beside him, Rus had his arms wrapped around his knees, which were pulled up to his chest. There was a solid metre between them.

Edge wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, but he was struggling to ignore Rus. Every second felt like a fresh assault of emotion; stress, despair, exhaustion, anxiety. It was unending. And worse still, they weren’t  _his_ emotions. They didn’t belong inside him, but they were there anyway.

He looked at Rus. He had his chin on his knees, his sockets open but lidded. His expression was bland. Or at least, it should have been. But beneath it, Edge could see—no,  _feel—_ everything. Every doubt, every fear, every worry. Every little thing that plagued at Rus’s mind seemed to plague at Edge’s own. He wanted to reach out; to close the distance between them and tug Rus against him. He wanted to tell him that it would be alright. That he  _knew._

But he couldn’t.

Because he shouldn’t  _know_. He shouldn’t be able to see beneath the blank expression on Rus’s face. He shouldn’t be able to hear every worry that ran through Rus’s head. He shouldn’t be able to feel what Rus was feeling. It was wrong. All of it was so  _wrong._

“i’m going to bed,” Rus announced, and Edge glanced up to see the credits playing on the screen.

“I’ll sleep here,” Edge said—as he did every night.

“no.” Rus would always argue, however. “it’s fine. sleep with—we can sleep in the same bed,” he said, smiling wryly. “we are soulmates.”

_But we shouldn’t be,_ Edge wanted to say. Instead he nodded, too tired to bother forcing his own smile. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

Edge and Rus lay on opposite ends of the bed, as close to the edge as the mattress would allow. They didn’t speak to each other, only to bid each other goodnight. Edge was tired, but he struggled to find sleep. Rus was still and silent beside him, but Edge knew he was awake too. He could feel his misery. His discontent. His  _everything._ Edge knew it wasn’t directed at him, but it pained him still. He wondered if Rus could feel  _his_  exhaustion.

Time passed, and Rus began to cry. It was quiet at first, his sobs stifled by the pillow he must have had his face pressed into. But the sounds were unmistakeable. And more than anything, Edge could feel the gloom coming from him. The utter despair. Pain seemed to lance through Edge’s chest. He wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around Rus and comfort him. To keep him safe. To protect him. To  _hold_ him. His deepest instincts were telling him it was the right thing to do.

But Edge couldn’t do it. He could never do it. Every night, he would lie awake, listening to Rus whimpering softly into his pillow. And every night he would remain inert. Unable to do anything but listen. And  _feel._ His soul bore every ounce of Rus’s grief, and there was nothing he could do.

Eventually, his own tears would come. Whether it was because of the soul-bond or not, Edge couldn’t be certain. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t meant to be here, with Rus by his side. Or perhaps it was because he  _was_ meant to be here, and it had all just happened too soon.

Perhaps he and Rus truly were meant to be soulmates. Perhaps. Regardless, the decision had been taken away from them. And now they were bound together for the remainder of their lives.

Edge felt empty.


	6. Night Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of prelude to [Argent Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762995/chapters/31631004). Not canon for the fic (although it could be taken as such). Just vampire hunter Edge with his sassy captive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Ship: Spicyhoney  
> Tags: Vampire AU, Medieval AU, Hunter Edge, Vampire Rus  
> Warnings: Implied kidnapping, mild dehumanisation (overall though, this is fairly lighthearted)

Edge watched as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, its final rays glancing off the silver-leafed trees, and casting a pale golden light over the landscape. He clung onto those last shreds of warmth; he had a long, cold night ahead of him.

When the sky had faded to a deep purple, he turned, heading back inside the abandoned barn. Instinctively, his hand drifted to the knife at his hip as he stepped into the darkness. He could vaguely make out the rotting bundles of hay tucked into the corners of the barn—and the figure fast asleep on top of them.

Edge approached slowly, crouching beside the vampire and shaking it awake. It opened its eyes blearily. The lights in its sockets had melted from a cool gold to a deeper shade of amber; it was growing hungry. But it seemed content to shoot Edge one of its frustrating grins. Edge had to wonder if it knew how much the sight of its small fangs chilled him. “i take it the sun is resting for the night?”

“Yes, I’m not an idiot,” Edge said, callously.

The vampire lifted a brow bone in dubiety as it rose to its feet. “well. i won’t presume to understand your definition of intellect, but i do recall that our first day together involved a bit of sunlight. you do remember that i’m a vampire, do you not?”

Edge sighed stiffly, ignoring the vampire as they walked outside. His mare was tethered to a fencepost, grazing on the lush grass sprouting from the muddy earth. He stroked her mane and she nickered softly, pushing her nose into his hand. “You ate the last apple this morning,” he reminded her, empathetically. She gave a short whinny, tossing her head. Edge laughed softly. He was almost certain she was the only thing keeping him sane. It was nice to have another living creature around.

As if on cue, the vampire chuckled quietly. Edge turned, irritated to see the creature’s self-satisfied smirk. “you treat your pet with more dignity than you afford me,” it said, striding forward to mount the horse.

“She is not a pet,” Edge said, tersely, swinging himself up behind the vampire. “And you are worth neither respect nor dignity.”

If Edge’s words cut the vampire, it showed no sign, only laughing softly as they began to trot in the direction of the looming mountains ahead. The land was vibrant in these parts, trees blooming with pale flowers, grass thick and green, and the land alive with the chittering of small animals. The flora was bathed in a strange shade of purple, the last remnants of the sun’s light still embellishing the sky.

As the night began to darken, a cool breeze picked up. The vampire shivered, wrapping its arms around itself as they trotted over a rocky slope. Edge tilted his head in question, though the vampire couldn’t see him. “I didn’t realise vampires were prone to the cold,” he said, coarsely.

The vampire let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking its head. “you have much to learn then, silver knight.”

Edge clenched his teeth, suddenly regretting engaging in conversation with the creature. “I’m not a knight, vampire,” he muttered.

It glanced over its shoulder at him, its smile illuminated by the moonlight. “and you might recall that i have a name. it’s stretch. please don’t be afraid to use it.”

Edge’s frustration was beginning to boil. “You do not command me, vampire,” he hissed in warning, tugging on the collar still clasped around the vampire’s vertebrae. It tipped its head back in response, swallowing, but its smile remained smug. “I needn’t remind you that we aren’t friends. You’re my captive; I suggest you start acting it.”

“perhaps i will,” the vampire said. “just as soon as you start behaving like a captor.” Edge growled under his breath, but released the vampire’s collar.

As the moon disappeared behind the dark mountains in the distance, the night sky became encrusted with millions of stars. Edge inhaled slowly, basking in the cool night air. Though he missed the sun, the night wasn’t always a burden.

Edge’s mare began to canter swiftly as the terrain evened out, grasslands stretching for miles and miles ahead. Jolted by the sudden increase of pace, the vampire slipped backward, its tailbone pressing against Edge’s pubic bone. “sorry,” it said, casting a grin over his shoulder. “lost my balance.”

Edge sighed, shifting backwards to create more distance between them. Or perhaps the night was just as bad as the stories said.


	7. Poker with a twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short Papcest OT5 fic based on the idea that Fell-verse monsters like being around Tale-verse monsters, given their gentle magical auras, and the general lack of hostility that surrounds them. Their presence is soothing to monsters with LV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Ship: Papcest OT5 (With focus on Twist Papyrus/Swap Papyrus - named Twist and Rus respectively)  
> Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, cuddling  
> Warnings: Implied death of an unnamed monster, symptoms of anxiety
> 
> (Twistfell is an AU that belongs to Lady-Kit)

“Oh hell bridge? The fuck kind a’ Tale-verse bullshit is that?”

Rus levelled Twist with a glare as he shuffled the deck of cards on the kitchen table. “too sophisticated for you?” he asked, mouth twitching into a smirk.

Twist stifled a snort, brow bone lifting as he shot Cash a knowing glance across the table. “I say we jus’ stick with the original plan an’ play poker. Y’know? A game with  _actual_ stakes?”

Rus rolled his eye-lights, but Edge cut in. “Absolutely not. Poker is off limits with the two of  _you_ here.” He held Twist and Cash with a pointed stare.

Twist rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the stiff tension in his neck. “Yer just takin’ his side ‘cause he lets ya do stuff ta him in public,” he commented. He caught Cash’s eye with a wink as Edge flushed hotly. Cash lifted a brow bone with a shake of his head, but remained silent.

“He—he does  _not_!” Edge spluttered, cheekbones bright red.

Twist considered for a moment, then shook his head, laughing. The noise sounded a little strange.  ~~A little wrong~~. “Wait. Yer right. It’s me ya do dirty stuff ta.”

“I don’t!” Edge protested, indignant. “I—I don’t do that!”

Twist paused again, then turned to his left, where Slim was sitting quietly in observation. Leaning in, Twist whispered, “Was it you who felt me up behind Grillby’s that time? I forget.” He cracked his knuckles, grinning at Slim.  ~~His face felt a little numb.~~

Slim shook his head wordlessly, clearly struggling to hide his smile. He glanced up at Cash, then looked back at Twist, lifting a brow bone. “Ah,” Twist said plainly, nodding. “’Course it was.” He turned to Cash. “Ya free after this, sweetheart?”

Cash merely rolled his eye, clearly not amused by Twist’s suggestion. Most likely because he probably knew that Twist was completely serious. God, Twist could really do with a good fuck. ~~Maybe it would help get rid of this hot, static feeling in his magic~~. “if ya win this hell bridge game, i’ll consider it,” Cash said, blandly.

“so, it’s settled? we’re playing oh hell bridge?” Rus was grinning triumphantly, and Twist conceded, tipping his head back with a put-upon sigh.

“I  _guess._ ” He glanced at Cash. “Ya’d better pay up, love.”

Cash scoffed. “yer implyin’ that i’m goin’ ta lose.”

Edge sighed heavily, pinching his nasal bone. “Rus. Give me the cards. You’re dealing too slowly.”

Rus wasn’t dealing at all in fact, his mouth pressed into his elbow as he tried to stifle his laughter. As Edge pried the cards from his hands, Rus glanced up at Twist, smiling. For the briefest of moments, warmth flickered in Twist’s chest, and his bones seemed to stop twitching. But the feeling died as he tore his gaze away, turning instead to Edge. “Ya’d better not be dealin’ with greasy fingers there, Edgy,” he said, cocking a brow bone.

“You’re projecting,” Edge remarked, dryly. Twist shrugged in concession, leaning back in his chair. Out of the corner of left socket, he could see Slim observing him. Twist winked at him, but Slim’s expression was one of concern, rather than amusement. He said nothing, but Twist could feel the weight of his worry, and quickly turned away, rapping his fingers on the surface of the wooden table. He focused on the steady thrumming until it drowned out the sound of the thoughts in his head.

As it turned out, Rus’s ‘Oh hell bridge’ was a lot more brutal than any form of poker Twist had ever played. Well. Physical brutality excluded. He could recall a few poker games that had earned him a scar or two.  ~~Had he ever gained any EXP over poker? Probably.~~

But Twist soon began to wonder if  _this_ game was heading down the path to animosity. It was apparent that Cash was fighting his frustration, teeth clenched as he glared across the table at Twist. “two,” he said stiffly, placing two chips in front of himself. “i bet two.”

Rus shot Twist a grin, before glancing at Cash. “two? you sure about that? we’re down to three cards each. seems a bit overambitious if you ask me.”

“well, i didn’t ask ya,” Cash snapped, his visible socket flaring dangerously. Magic prickled at Twist’s fingertips.

Cash’s fury only seemed to amuse Rus further however, and he opened his mouth (no doubt to make another quip at Cash’s expense), when Edge cut in. “Undoubtedly ambitious,” he said quickly, eyes darting to Twist. “I’ll go with two as well.” His gaze lingered on Twist, but his expression was even and unreadable.

Rus, on the other hand, looked purely delighted, his eyes sparkling almost maliciously as Edge placed down two chips. “well. this is going to be a complete bloodbath. you both understand how this game works, don’t you?”

Edge shrugged, his face a mask of control. “We each have three cards this turn. I predict that two out of three of my cards are better than the rest of yours combined.”

Rus scrunched his face up as if in thought, humming. “eh… not quite how the game works, but you’re not losing, so i’ll give you that.” He turned to Cash, grinning. “ _you_ on the other hand—”

“i’m only two points behind the twisted asshole,” Cash muttered, staring at Twist coldly.

“one point,” Slim corrected, quietly. Twist caught him shooting an anxious glance in his direction, as if afraid the correction might upset him. “it’s… you didn’t do so well last round,” he told Twist.

An invisible itch crawled beneath Twist’s bones as Slim watched him. He ignored it, looking at the scorecard with a chuckle. “An’ the pup’s winnin’,” he remarked, running his knuckles over the top of Slim’s skull. “Guess yer more suited fer this Tale-verse stuff than the rest of us.”

Rus looked dubious, scowling at Twist. “really? you still consider this a tale-verse game? after how ruthless you were last round?”

Twist shrugged, throwing an arm over Slim’s shoulders. “Nothin’ wrong with bein’ Tale-verse, sweetheart. In fact—” He touched his teeth to the crown of Slim’s skull, a blush spreading across Slim’s cheekbones, “—consider it a compliment.” Releasing Slim, he looked back up at Rus, grinning. Dropping a chip onto the table, he added, “Oh, an’ I’ll bet one. Playin’ it safe this round.” He glanced at his cards. Considering his hand, one was probably a little overzealous. He scratched at the back of his skull, turning his head until the bones of his neck clicked. They still itched.

“well. zero for me,” Rus said. “it sounds like you all have really great hands.”

Twist snickered, glancing at Cash. “If I win this, maybe Patches’ll tell ya just how great my hands are.”

As it turned out, Cash’s ambition paid off, putting him ahead of Twist. And when the game finally came to a sticky end, Twist was sorely behind everyone else. The anxious scrutiny of Edge and Slim was almost  _tangible_ on his bones, but he did his best to ignore it. Rus was watching him with poorly veiled amusement. “seems you aren’t very good at this ‘tale-verse bullshit’,” he said, giving Twist a mock-sympathetic smile.

Twist chuckled, waving him off. “Give me more time ta practice, an’ I’ll ownevery one of yer asses.”

“but, as it stands,  _i_ own  _yer_ ass,” Cash pointed out, the corner of his mouth turning up.

Twist lifted a brow bone. “Didn’t realise that was part a’ the deal—but I’m game.”

Cash seemed disappointed at Twist’s lacklustre reaction, his grin slipping. “don’t go thinkin’ i’m gonna give ya the satisfaction of a good fuckin’ tonight, darlin’,” Cash said, his eye flashing deviously.

Twist caught a glimpse of Edge and Slim exchanging a deliberate look, before Edge quickly cleared his throat, speaking up. “Well, technically—Slim won. So, he should be the one deciding what happens to Twist, shouldn’t he?” Edge met Cash’s gaze, narrowing his sockets. Slim glanced between Twist and Cash uncertainly, tugging his sleeves over his hands.

“eh, do what ya want ta the twisted bitch, slim,” Cash said, conceding with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. “i’m gonna head home. have fun cleanin’ up, assholes.” He watched Twist for a moment, a frown creeping across his features, before rising from his chair and teleporting from the room.

Edge regarded the spot he’d been standing in with a scowl. “Remind me why we keep him around?” he asked vaguely, standing and collecting the scattered cards and chips.

Twist shrugged, smirking at Edge. “He’s good in bed.” When Edge rolled his eyes, Twist turned to Slim. “Speakin’ of—what do ya want from me tonight, precious?” The blush that spread across Slim’s cheekbones excited the already frantic magic buzzing through Twist, and he had to clasp his hands together to prevent himself from doing something inappropriate.

“i—well…” Slim looked to Edge for support, seeming a little panicked. Edge only levelled his gaze with a small, but deliberate nod. Slim turned back to Twist, quickly smiling. “i though maybe you could… s-stay here.”

Twist blinked in surprise, lifting a brow bone. “Here? Uh, not so sure Rus would approve of us stealin’ his bed fer the night, but if that’s what ya really want…”

But Slim was shaking his head. Avoiding Twist’s gaze, he said, “no, i mean—i won’t be here. j-just… you and rus.”

Twist glanced at Rus, but he was looking just as taken aback as Twist felt. “i don’t recall agreeing to this,” Rus said, though he didn’t seem entirely averse to the idea, shooting Twist a grin.

“Well,” Edge said, clearing his throat with a frown, “the two of you have been eyeing each other for a fair portion of the evening….” Again, Edge’s eyes travelled to Slim, something unspoken passing between them. Twist smirked a little; subtlety never had been their strong suit. Though, he was almost inclined to thank them.  _Almost._ Though spending time with Rus didn’t sound entirely unappealing, he didn’t like being manipulated.

The magic fluttering through him settled a little as he met Rus’s gaze across the table. His smile was soft—something so  _Tale-verse_ emanating from him. He probably wasn’t even aware of it. “I’m down if you are, sweetheart,” Twist said, shooting Rus a wink. “Though, I should warn ya, I’m feelin’ a little… handsy.” He flexed his wrists, as if to emphasize the point. In truth, keeping his joints moving helped prevent his unstable magic from congesting and building up.  ~~Too much concentrated magic was the perfect recipe for an outburst. And those seldom ended without a kill count.~~

“nothing i’ve ever been one to complain about,” Rus said, releasing a small laugh. He looked up at Edge, suspicion briefly colouring his expression. But Edge avoided his gaze, quickly turning to the sink and running water over the dirty dishes. Rus glanced back at Twist with lifted brow bones, but Twist only shook his head, rising from the table and walking to stand beside Edge.

Picking up a dishcloth, he said, “Here, Edgy. I’ll help ya.” Edge swallowed, glancing up at him. Twist’s fingers curled around the cloth a little too tightly, but he forced a grin. “It ain’t any trouble.” He turned to look at Slim. “Rus can walk ya home, puppy.”

Slim cast Edge an anxious glance, but Edge only gave him a stiff nod. Dipping his head, Slim shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. Rus seemed a little perplexed, shooting Twist a strange look over his shoulder as he followed Slim.

Twist’s grin remained plastered across his face until they’d left. He then turned to Edge, allowing the expression to drop. “This some kinda game, Edgy?” he asked, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His magic seemed to burn within his bones, and he tipped his head back, vertebrae clicking.

Edge shook his head, giving a laboured sigh. His fingers scraped over the dish he was holding, and he dropped it into the sink before he spoke. “You’re not exactly good at hiding it, Twist.”

Twist snorted at the sheer irony of the comment. “An’ you an’ the pup are? What’re ya tryin’ ta do here, exactly?”

Edge held Twist’s gaze firmly, something frustrated burning beneath his expression. He closed his sockets for a moment, seeming to compose himself. “You reek of dust.” The comment spoke for itself, and Twist looked away, a hoarse chuckle leaving his throat.

His fingers itched and his spine tingled, his magic still rampant and uncontrolled. His soul seemed to weigh just a little too much in his chest; he felt hot. Tapping his knuckles against the countertop, he shrugged. “What’s yer point? Ain’t like it doesn’t happen every other week.”

Edge was silent for a beat, his eyes steady as he observed Twist. “Who was it?” he asked, eventually, his voice quiet.

Twist waved him off, turning to cross the room. “Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ain’t it always?” He grinned at Edge over his shoulder, but Edge didn’t reciprocate.

He slowly approached Twist, his touch gentle as he rested a hand on Twist’s shoulder. “He helps, Twist. You know he does.”

“He does,” Twist admitted, thinking of the way Rus’s smile alone had been enough to temper the erratic magic inside of him. “Tale-verse bastard,” he muttered, with a dry laugh. His grip was tight on the countertop, and it took him a moment to realise he’d created dents in the wood. Pulling his hands away, he looked at Edge, exhaling heavily. “An’ if I snap? Doubt his HP’d be able ta take a hit.”

Edge nodded, grimacing. “I… I know.” He sighed wearily and pinched his nasal bridge. “I don’t like—I can’t be around him when I’ve—” The unspoken thought burned inside Twist’s skull. “But…” Edge looked up at Twist, a little more conviction in his eyes. “You just—you just need to let him in.”

Twist flexed his fingers, the joints clicking satisfyingly. Tipping his head back, he breathed deeply for a moment, closing his eyes. He could feel Edge watching him, but he focused on his breathing instead. He inhaled slowly, allowing the air to flow through his chest, his soul soaking in the oxygen. It marginally alleviated the tingle of the fresh EXP, the rattling of his raw nerves settling—just slightly.

“am i… interrupting something?”

Twist’s sockets snapped open, and he spun to see Rus standing in the kitchen doorway. He was smirking, amusement dancing in his eyes—completely oblivious to the true weight of the atmosphere. Edge looked anxious, a frown creasing his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but Twist cut him off. “Nah, the Edgelord was just tellin’ me the best way ta get ya ta moan fer me.”

Edge looked indignant, but Rus only lifted a brow bone, his smile widening. “thought you already knew how to do that?”

Twist shrugged. “Never hurts ta improve.” He turned to grin at Edge, but the remnants of their conversation lingered in Edge’s eyes. He watched Twist for a moment, calculating. Glancing quickly at Rus, Twist said, “Well, you goin’ ta give Rus an’ I some privacy, Edgelord?”

Edge frowned, scanning Twist’s features. He looked at Rus, who offered him nothing more than a shrug, his smile unwavering. “Yer welcome ta join us, if ya like,” Twist offered, grinning at Edge.

But Edge shook his head, pulling his shoulders up and making for the door. “That’s kind of you, but I’ll pass. I have things to take care of.” He hesitated at the door, looking between Twist and Rus, something uncertain in his expression.

Sensing Edge’s reluctance to leave him alone, Twist strode over to Rus, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tucking him against his side. “Well, I have somethin’ I need ta take care of myself.” He pressed his teeth to the crown of Rus’s skull. Warmth, affection, and trust flowed from Rus immediately, and Twist’s chest seemed to unknot. He looked up at Edge, lifting a brow bone, as if to say ‘ _See? You have nothing to worry about._ ’

Edge was still frowning, but Twist could tell that some of the tension had left him. “Good,” he said, nodding. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Before turning, he watched Rus for a moment, unmarred fondness in his expression. Twist squeezed Rus’s shoulder slightly, pulling him closer. Edge’s expression alone told Twist that he understood—he  _knew_ how good Rus could be in a situation like this. How much of a balm his mere presence could be to an LV-afflicted soul. How—despite how much of an assholehe could be—he was just so  _Tale-verse._  Right now, Twist needed something a little Tale-verse.  ~~Something to keep him from plummeting into the abyss of his LOVE.~~

When Twist climbed into bed beside Rus, his magic had settled considerably. The electric buzz of EXP still hummed in his soul, but it wasn’t as static and untethered. He felt… a little more in control.

Rus was dozing, but cracked open his sockets as Twist nuzzled against his neck. He laughed sleepily, looping an arm around Twist’s spine. “heya, twisted.”

“Honey,” Twist mumbled, inhaling Rus’s scent. Rus laughed softly, kissing Twist’s fingertips. Twist pressed himself against Rus’s back, his ribs flush with Rus’s spine. He rested his chin on Rus’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Rus’s torso to ensure there was no distance between them. He hummed in appreciation as Rus began to purr softly, his aura warm and gentle.

Twist’s fingers hooked between Rus’s ribs as he soaked in the projections. Rus released a soft, breathy laugh, tilting his head to meet Twist’s eye. “we fucking?” he asked, smirking.

“Heh, I’m tempted, but… nah.” Twist nestled closer, until Rus was completely enveloped in his arms, their limbs tangled together. “I just wanna… stay like this.” He sighed as Rus melted against him, his projections amplifying and bathing Twist in tranquillity. “Yer so… so fuckin’  _good_ , Tale-verse,” he breathed against Rus’s neck. “Yer so damn good.”

Twist appreciated having Edge—and Slim, and Cash. They understood. They knew what living in that near-constant state of fear felt like. They wore their threats like a protective blanket—it soaked their auras in spite and hatred. They kept their love and compassion locked inside their souls—not there for everyone to see and  _feel._ Buried beneath layers upon layers of hostility. It was necessary. And it was lonely.

But Rus lacked that veil of animosity. Being around him felt like being bathed in care, and affection, and love, and peace—everything  _good_. And when Twist felt like he was teetering just a little too close to the edge—it was the perfect remedy to keep him from falling off it entirely. He needed this. He needed Rus.


	8. Milk and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little self-insert written for my Swap Papyrus bitty, Honey Bean, given to me by [Sansy-Fresh](https://sansy-fresh.tumblr.com/post/171261199506/freshs-bitty-center). (I'm pretty sure I name-dropped a couple of other writers in here, lol).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Ship: None  
> Tags: Bittybones, self-insert  
> Warnings: None

Alice woke up with a jolt as a loud crash sounded from down the passage. Blearily blinking the sleep from her eyes, she climbed out of bed, her joints clicking as she crept across her room. As she emerged into the passage, the light coming from the kitchen caught her eye. Stifling a yawn, she made the long walk down the passage, kicking the odd assortment of tennis balls and cat toys out of her path.

When she reached the kitchen, she sighed, folding her arms in contempt. The refrigerator door was hanging open, milk dripping onto the floor from the overturned carton. Beside the puddle, sat a little skeleton, no taller than eight inches. “Honey Bean, what are you doing?” Alice asked, trying to hide her smile.

Bean just looked up at her, his single golden eye-light flickering out momentarily as his sockets widened. “n-nothing!” he squeaked, quickly scrambling to his feet. Alice’s gaze travelled to the step ladder balanced against the fridge. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep her expression stern.

She looked down at Bean, lifting an eyebrow. “So, I assume it was the cat who pushed the step ladder up to the fridge and unscrewed the lid of the milk carton?”

Bean ducked his head sheepishly, scratching the back of his skull. “m-must’ve been,” he muttered, staring at his feet. The loud  _beep beep_ of the open fridge made him jump, and he wrapped his arms around himself, grimacing.

Sighing, Alice crouched, screwing the lid back onto the milk carton, before scooping Bean into her hands. She shut the fridge door, and looked down at Bean, who had dropped down in her palm, knees pulled to his chest. He huffed and turned his head away as she touched her thumb to his chin. “Come on, buddy, let’s talk,” Alice said, carrying him to the living room and plopping him atop one of the couch’s cushions. Sitting beside him, she looked down at him quizzically. “So, are you going to tell me why you decided you needed a midnight snack? I even gave you an extra portion of milk for dinner last night.”

Bean lay back against the cushions, closing his eyes with a shrug. “i was hungry,” he mumbled.

Alice frowned. “So I haven’t been feeding you enough? You said you were full before you’d even finished dinner last night.” Bean ignored her, humming wordlessly. Alice grumbled a curse under her breath. So, he was in a stubborn mood? She could handle that. It was nothing new. Yawning, she stretched her arms, and stood. “Well. Since you don’t want to talk about it, I’m gonna head back to bed. Night, Bean.”

“w-wait!” Alice paused as she felt a tiny hand clasp around her finger. She turned, glancing down at Bean with upraised eyebrows. He stretched his arms out, giving her his ‘puppy eye’ (since only one of them technically worked). Pursing her lips to stop herself from cooing at him, Alice lifted him into her hands, cradling him gently. He was quiet for a moment, magic rising to his cheekbones as he avoided her gaze. Eventually, he exhaled heavily, frowning. “i heard you telling kit that her pup looked like he was getting bigger,” he muttered, resentfully.

Alice regarded him skeptically. “Treble is growing—at least, in strength. His last owners weren’t exactly…” Alice trailed off, shaking her head. “Why do you care, anyway?”

Bean scowled. “well—fresh said that zeus’s wingspan is longer than eight inches!” he blurted.

Alice fought to hide a laugh. So  _that’s_ what was bothering him. She scratched the crown of his skull with the tip of her finger, and he growled irritably, ducking out from under her touch. “Oh—come on, Bean. Who cares how tall everyone else is—or how long their wingspans are?” She leaned in close to whisper, “You still have them all beaten by at least an inch.”

Bean flushed slightly, but still looked downtrodden. “it’s not just that… they all have talents and—and they can do cool stuff. i can’t do anything.” He sat down with a small huff, folding his arms.

Alice gazed at him, smiling sympathetically. “Alright,” she said, “come on then. Let’s get you some milk and honey.”

Bean stared up at her, his eye-light spinning and forming a bright star. “honey?” he asked, gaping.

Alice nodded, beaming. “Of course! I don’t call you Honey Bean for nothing—though not too much,” she added, tickling his ribs. “You’re already a very chubby boy!”

Bean glared, but Alice could see the hint of a smile beneath the expression. She carried him back to the kitchen and placed him on the floor beside the spilt milk. Tossing him a damp dishcloth from the sink, she said, “Alright, you clean that up. I’ll get you some milk and honey. It’s about time I started teaching you how to do chores.”

Bean groaned, giving the dishcloth a look that might suggest it had offended him somehow. “why? i’m too small to clean anyway…”

“Oh no you’re not,” Alice chided. “You’re the tallest bitty—that comes with responsibilities. Now clean. Or no honey.”

With a put-upon sigh and a little more grumbling, Bean began to wipe up the mess on the floor. Alice fetched the bottle of honey from the pantry, squeezing just shy of half a drop into the small dish of milk she’d poured. Once she was satisfied with Bean’s job of cleaning the floor (she decided that she’d have to come back and give it a proper wipe down in the morning), she lifted him onto the kitchen counter, nodding at the dish of milk and honey. “There you go. Honey for the Honey.”

Bean grinned, tipping back the dish and gulping it down. Alice twisted her hands together as a little milk spilled onto his shirt—she’d only just cleaned it! It definitely wasn’t cute. Nope. Not cute at all.

Once he’d finished, Alice placed the dish in the sink, and carried Bean back to her bedroom, resting him atop one of her pillows. She climbed beneath the covers, and pulled Bean’s small blanket up to his chin, kissing him lightly on the forehead. He closed his eye sockets, curling up into a tiny ball, arms wrapped around his knees.

A thought occurred to Alice suddenly, and she gently nudged Bean’s shoulder. “Hey, Bean?” she whispered. He hummed in acknowledgement, but his eyes were closed. “You want to learn how to draw?” she asked.

Slowly, he cracked his right socket open, golden eye-light dim. “draw?”

“Yeah,” Alice said, grinning. “I’m not much of an artist myself, but Fresh could teach you—or even Kit! I haven’t seen much of her art, but I bet she’s amazing too.”

Bean gazed at her sleepily, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He nodded slowly. “yeah. okay,” he said, fingers curling around his blanket. “sounds fun.” He shuffled a little closer to her, wrapping a strand of her hair around himself.

Alice laughed softly to herself, smoothing her thumb over his spine. “Goodnight, Honey Bean,” she whispered. “My tall boy.” Bean was already fast asleep, breathing deeply as he clung to her. It seemed even honey wasn’t enough to keep this bitty awake.


	9. Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble based on [this lovely artwork](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/172542450104/love-of-mine-someday-you-will-die-but-ill-be) by Cheapbourbon. It broke my heart a little, so I had to comfort myself by giving them a happy ending.
> 
> (Could also act as a hypothetical ending to [Birthday Candles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850143).)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Ship: Spicyhoney  
> Tags: Afterlife reunion, fluff, hurt/comfort  
> Warnings: Implied major character deaths

Edge stepped through the towering archway and onto the crisp, green grass. He could only see a few feet ahead of him, his surroundings swallowed in black. The darkness wasn’t oppressive though, and Edge sensed no danger in its depths. In fact, he found that it soothed him.

He could hear wind in the distance, but the air around him was still and warm. Within it, something sweet lingered—rain, blooming spring, and… books? The scent—though a little puzzling—was pleasant, and Edge breathed deeply before treading slowly forward, the grass crunching beneath his boots.

He wasn’t sure where he was walking—or why. But his bones tingled with anticipation, and something tugged on his soul, whispering to him— _keep going._ For whatever reason, the prospect of finding whatever was waiting for him in the darkness excited Edge. He straightened his scarf, and marched onward.

As he walked, it began to rain. He could hear the distant clap of thunder, and caught occasional glimpses of bright flashes of lightning, illuminating the darkness in pure silver light. Somehow, he remained dry, the water sliding off his bones without leaving a hint of its presence. He closed his eyes and breathed in the serene taste of the air, bathing his soul in tranquillity.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see a figure hovering in the shadows ahead. He stilled, blinking against the dim light to try and discern who it was. They walked a few careful paces closer to him, and a thin beam of light fell on their face.

Edge’s breath caught.

“heya, edgelord.”

It was Rus. He was wearing that ratty hoodie of his, and his shoulders were slumped casually. His golden eyes were deep and bright—and he was smiling. He looked no different than he had, the day he’d…

“Am I… dead?” Edge asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Rus’s smile turned solemn, the light in his eyes fading a little. He nodded. “you and me both.”

Edge closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Strangely, he felt… fine. No hint of sadness or mourning tainted him, and no fears or doubts hindered him. His soul felt light and unburdened, and…

And Rus was here. Edge looked up at him, and tears began to well in his eye sockets. He had little luck hiding his smile. Wasting no time, he closed the distance between them, throwing himself into Rus’s arms, and pressing his head against his chest. “You’re here,” he whispered, his breath hitching on a sob. “I never thought I’d—” His voice broke, and he went silent, clinging to Rus.

“neither did i,” Rus murmured, cradling Edge’s head and pressing his teeth firmly to the crown of his skull. “every day, i waited. i… i hoped you’d be here later, rather than sooner, but i—” Rus stuttered, and he breathed deeply before continuing. “but you’re here now. and i’m—i l-love you.” Rus’s tears dripped onto the grass at their feet, and he hugged Edge tighter.

“I love you too,” Edge breathed, inhaling Rus’s scent and losing himself in the feeling of his arms around him. “After—after all this time, I… I never stopped loving you.” He kissed Rus’s forehead, and held onto him fiercely. “I knew… I knew I’d find you again.”

Edge and Rus clung to each other as the rain fell around them, the pale light swathing them in a delicate shade of silver. Neither of them let go—the thought didn’t even occur to them. They had each other again. They were together, in each other’s arms.

This was where they belonged.


	10. Peaches and Patches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Cat Slim body positivity' is how I normally describe this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Ship: TwistedMoney or Patches & Radish (Twist Papyrus/Swapfell KH Papyrus). Could also be TwistedPuppyMoney if you consider kitty Slim to be a part of their relationship.  
> Tags: Cat Slim, pet adoption, fluff  
> Warnings: Pet shelter angst (resolved), reference to animal euthanasia

Slim was no ordinary cat.

Nor was he extraordinary, for that matter.

Rather, he was different in a way that made him stand out—but not quite in the way he might have liked. What set him apart from the others was, well—how  _hideous_ he was. At least, that’s what the humans would say.

 

_What a funny looking creature! Where is its fur?_

_Strange little goblin… I think I’d rather get one of these soft ones._

_It’s hardly a real cat. Cats are supposed to be soft and cuddly!_

Slim’s skin was dark grey and wrinkled. It sagged around his bulbous yellow eyes, which were too big for his small head. Thin cuts and old, ugly scars ran across his face and back—the most prominent striking through his upper lip. A small chunk was missing from one of his ears, and one if his teeth was slightly longer than the others, gold in colour.

Little could be said about how attractive a pet he was—but Slim did try. He copied the other cats in his pen whenever it was presentation day, purring as loudly as he could (even though his voice was ragged and quiet) whenever someone approached, perking up his (too large) ears, lifting his (ugly) head and rubbing his (grotesque) body against the hands that wandered into the pen.

Yet despite his best efforts, he was never picked.

The other cats came and went, day after day, while Slim remained. Every morning he would purr, mewl softly, swish his tail excitedly whenever a newcomer entered the shop. And every evening he would be the last cat remaining. One of the shop humans would lift him from the pen and return him to his tiny cage in the cold back room, where he would remain—forgotten, until the next litter came in.

One morning, a small family visited. Slim perked up as the shop’s bell rang, stretching and rising to walk towards the edge of the pen. He peered up hopefully as one of the human children approached, eyeing the cats curiously. The child reached a hand into the pen, and Slim purred softly, pressing himself against it. The child giggled, turning to their parents. “Look at this one, mommy! It’s so ugly!”

Reaching their hand towards Slim, the child grasped his broken ear, yanking it. Slim hissed, swatting at the child’s hand with his claws bared. The child screamed, stumbling backward as Slim’s sharp claws cut into their skin. Wailing, they ran back to their mother, while Slim cowered in the corner of his pen, awaiting his punishment.

Cats that didn’t play nicely didn’t last long around here. No one wanted a bad-tempered cat.

Promptly, Slim was lifted from the pen and returned to his cage. No one came back to get him that day. Or the next.

For a week, Slim was confined to his small cage. He made his home in one of the corners, huddled in on himself and sleeping until he was fed. Sometimes he’d stand near the bars, yowling softly. But no one came for him.

When at last Slim’s cage was opened and he was carried back into the light of the shop, he mewled happily, his ears perking up. He looked around curiously. It was a quiet morning, only two humans and a monster browsing the various animals and toys.

Slim purred when they reached the pen, where the other cats were snoozing or playing with each other. But the human carrying him walked past the pen. Confused, Slim mewed, trying to scramble from the human’s arms. “Hey—hold still, you,” the human muttered, adjusting his grip on Slim and holding him tighter.

“Wha’s that ya got there?”

The human paused, turning to look at the monster who had spoken. Slim considered it. He was a strange monster. He had no skin—only bones, which were littered with ridges and notches. And his eye was… broken. Shattered into small pieces around the edges, the light inside it missing.

“Nothing,” the human said, sniffing. “He’s being taken to the pound—problem cat, y’know?”

Slim shrunk in the human’s hands, his ears folding back as he began to quiver. He’d heard the humans talking about the Pound before. He tried not to listen too much. It didn’t sound like the type of place a cat would want to be.

The monster narrowed his sockets, looking down at Slim. He reached out a bony finger and tickled Slim beneath his chin. Reflexively, Slim pushed his head into the touch, a faint purr building in his chest. “Doesn’ seem like a problem cat ta me,” the monster said, scratching behind Slim’s ears. “How much is ‘e?”

The human looked perplexed, holding Slim a few inches away from their body. “He’s… not for sale.” The monster gave the human a penetrating look, and quickly, they cleared their throat. “B-but, I suppose we could… work something out.” The monster beamed.

 

He purchased a collar for Slim at the till—red, and dotted with studs. Slim was fairly certain it was meant for a dog, but when Twist clasped it around his neck, his entire body flooded with warmth, an involuntary purr rumbling in his chest. Monsters were rather magical, after all.

 

They caught the bus back to the monster’s home, Slim perched carefully on his lap. “Geez,” the monster muttered, clinging onto Slim as the bus took a sharp turn. “They should really install seatbelts in these things.”

Slim nuzzled against his hand as he held him steady. “Name’s Twist, by the way,” the monster told him. “Only fair that I tell ya mine, since I know yers.” He ran a single bony finger over Slim’s cheek. “Think ‘m gonna call ya Peaches though, sweetheart,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Patches is gonna love ya.”

 

Twist balanced Slim awkwardly on his hip when they reached his apartment, fumbling with the key as he unlocked the door. The inside smelled of lavender and citrus, along with something sweeter. “Hey, Patches,” Twist called, carrying Slim across the front room, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. “Got ya somethin’.”

From around the corner, Slim heard a heavy sigh. “twisted, if it’s another bag of fucking marbles, i swear—”

“No marbles,” Twist said, hoisting Slim up and tilting him so that he was facing outward. “Just some Peaches.”

They entered the living room and the bony monster sitting on the sofa looked up, his eye socket going wide. “it’s a…” He blinked, scratching at the patch that covered his left socket. “cat.”

“’is name’s Slim,” Twist told the other monster, proudly. “I call ‘im Peaches though.”

The monster’s expression sunk into a scowl. “hilarious.”

Twist shrugged, lowering Slim onto the monster’s lap. Slim was anxious about leaving the warmth of Twist’s arms, but this other monster wasn’t so bad. He rested a hand atop Slim’s head and began petting him softly. “Peaches an’ Patches,” Twist said, shrugging unapologetically. “Ya know I couldn’ resist.” Shaking his head, the monster—Patches—scratched behind Slim’s ears.

“uh… hey, pea— _slim,_ ” he said, gently. Slim mewed quietly, pushing his head against Patches’ palm. A glimmer of a smile appeared on Patches’ surly face. “sweet little guy,” he said, glancing up at Twist.

“Ya like ‘im?” Twist asked, looking hopeful. Slim nudged his cheek into the crease of Patches’ elbow, purring.

“ha… yeah,” Patches said, softly, his smile growing into something genuine. “yeah, i like him.”

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t takin’ ‘im back,” Twist said, slumping onto the sofa beside Patches. He tickled Slim beneath his chin with his thumb, grinning when Slim mewled, curling up on Patches’ lap. “We bonded on th’ way over here. Think ‘e likes ya too.”

“of course he does,” Patches said, sniffing. “what’s not to like?”

Grinning, Twist leaned in, touching his teeth against Patches’. Slim lifted his head, staring at them. Releasing a loud mew, he nudged his nose against Patches’ hand. Breaking apart, Twist and Patches looked down at him, Twist grinning.

“hey, we don’t need you policing our public displays of affection, little mister,” Patches said. Slim only purred, rubbing himself against Patches’ chest.

Twist grinned, laughing and scratching Slim’s back. “Think ‘e jus’ wants yer undivided attention,” he said, giving Patches a knowing look.

“well, that makes two of you,” Patches grumbled. Nonetheless, he seemed content to pet Slim gently as he settled back down, curling into Patches’ lap and purring sleepily.

“We’re gonna pamper ya, Peaches,” Twist murmured, leaning against Patches’ shoulder with a yawn, his fingers brushing Slim’s ears. “Patches an’ I er gonna take good care a’ ya.”

As Slim dozed, his purrs grew louder and more natural. He flinched a little when Patches’ fingers brushed his scarred ear, but settled quickly when his soft petting resumed. Warmth radiated from the two monsters—care, affection, the promise of love and safety.

Slim slept peacefully, knowing he was wanted.


	11. Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cash has to say goodbye to an immortal lover... but is this really the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Ship: ExpensivePear (Swapfell KH Papyrus/Portugal Papyrus)  
> Tags: Vampire Portugal, Victorian(ish) setting, angst  
> Warnings: Break up angst, heartbreak
> 
> (Portugal belongs to Sansy-Fresh)

Soft music echoed through the grand hall, accompanied by the chink of crystal champagne glasses and the chatter and laughter of the guests. Silk cloth of a deep violet had been draped over the long dining tables, which bore bowls of rich fruit and pure silver candelabras. The room glittered with a vast array of monsters and humans alike, their clothing tailored to perfection.

Cash leaned back in his chair, turning his empty glass over in his hand. Boredom often accompanied his attendance of these events–but, as it happened, they were a necessary evil. Someone with his level of influence (and affluence) was required to make a public appearance every once in a while, regardless of how much he detested the idea. He pushed his food around his plate, his appetite minimal. He’d spent much of the night fending off members of the court and other pompous nobles. Cash found it a cruel irony that he’d been granted such a high position in society; while most would have (and had) committed murder to attain such a position, there were fewer places Cash would less like to be.

The touch of a hand on his shoulder made Cash jump. He spun, more than ready to snap at whichever egotistical jackass had deigned to touch him. Instead, he was met with the sight of the bright, emerald green eye he’d grown so familiar with. Ah, so it was a jackass after all. Regardless, his soul stuttered a beat, and he swallowed, trying to remain composed. “what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice tight. He fiddled with his bowtie, eyes straying from Portugal’s face.

Portugal leaned against the table beside him. As always, he looked far too satisfied with himself, a small smile tugging at the corner of his teeth. He said nothing, simply watching Cash. The way his piercing eye-light wandered over Cash’s face made him feel bare. He stared at the table, blushing. “how did you even get in?” he asked, shortly. “i can’t imagine they would let someone dressed like that into a place like this.”

“Told ‘em I was fuckin’ the host,” Portugal replied smoothly, grinning when Cash’s blush deepened. His fingers crept across the tablecloth, resting over Cash’s hand. “‘ow are ya, love? Fine life treatin’ ya well?”

“no,” Cash said, sulkily, scowling at the table. “it’s dull.” He glanced up at Portugal as his fingers began to stroke soft patterns over the back of his hand. Swallowing back the small pool of magic that had begun to settle in his mandible, he asked, “why are you here? really. i thought… i thought you didn’t…” Cash broke off, pressing his teeth together. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall, taking a shuddering breath.

Portugal squeezed his hand, his smile growing somber. “Care ta dance, love?” he asked, rising. “Yer lookin’ lovely tonight, ‘ave I told ya that?”

“wish i could say the same for you,” Cash uttered, beneath his breath. Not quiet enough to be below Portugal’s acute sense of hearing, however, and the comment earned him a soft chuckle.

“I came here ta see you, love. Not ta be seen. Come now, let’s dance.” When Cash hesitated, frowning, Portugal tilted his head. “Please?”

Rolling his eye-light, Cash stood, marching past Portugal and towards the dance floor. “fine. but don’t think this has anything to do with you. i’m simply bored out of my wits.”

Portugal followed him, smirking. “I can see ta the solvin’ a’ that problem,” he said quietly as they reached the centre of the floor. Cash’s breath caught in his throat as Portugal looped an arm around his waist and intertwined their fingers. This close, Cash could see the flecks of crimson in the depths of his green eye-light, and the way his fangs glinted beneath the light of the candles around them. Though Cash was a few centimetres taller than Portugal, he’d always felt fragile in his arms–which, he supposed, he was. Portugal was powerful, and with strength like his, Cash was little more than a brittle set of bones in his arms. Yet at the same time, there was nowhere Cash had ever felt safer.

Portugal’s movements were fluid as he guided Cash across the dancefloor, his hand gripping Cash’s hip delicately. Cash had never been great at dancing, despite the fact that his lifestyle often demanded the skill. But Portugal easily took control, moving him with grace and poise. Cash followed his movements, his breath catching as Portugal dipped, his face hovering inches away from Cash’s as he held him.

Cash swallowed, his eye flickering away and his cheekbones glowing brightly. “I’m goin’ ta miss seein’ you blush,” Portugal whispered. Beneath the playfulness of his tone was something sadder, and Cash felt his spirits dampening.

His chest gave an uncomfortable throb as Portugal lifted him back onto his feet. The song had ended, but their hands remained clasped. Cash could feel the discomfort of despair returning, even as Portugal tugged him into his arms, holding him. Cash could sense the eyes of his guests on him, but he cared little for their opinions. He rested his head against Portugal’s shoulder, no longer bothering to fight back the tears. “don’t… don’t go,” he breathed, a sob catching in his throat.

Portugal stroked the back of his skull, hushing him gently. “Aw, love. Ya know I have to. This… isn’t the place fer a–fer someone like me.”

“i don’t care,” Cash hissed, clinging on more tightly. “i don’t care what people think, i… i love you.”

Portugal was silent, his hold on Cash growing stronger. A pleasant tremor ran down Cash’s spine as he felt Portugal’s fangs brushing the bones of his neck, catching on the old wounds there. And in that moment, Cash didn’t care where they were, or who overheard them. “you could t-turn me,” he whispered. “make me like you. i want… i want to be with you.”

Portugal sighed. It was an old argument, and one that had yet failed to breed a point they could both agree upon. “Ya don’t want ta be like me, love,” he said, quietly. “Yer better off… livin’.”

Cash shook his head, angry tears falling down his face. “it’s not–i don’t  _care._ it isn’t fair, i–i  _want_ to be with you. i…”

Portugal held Cash steady as he sobbed, his fists entwined in Portugal’s shirt. “In a hundred years, ya will have fergotten me,” he murmured, despite Cash’s earnest shake of his head. “I’m hardly the most wonderful person you’ll ever meet. There will be others…”

“i don’t  _want_ anyone else,” Cash said through clenched teeth, well aware of how childish he sounded. “i–i only want  _you._ ”

“And I’m yers,” Portugal whispered, something breaking in his voice. “I’ll always be yers. You’ve kept me alive fer so long… I owe you everything.” He kissed the crown of Cash’s skull and drew away. “Which is why I…” He inhaled, his eye conveying the sorrow beneath his faint smile. “Yer better off without someone like me in yer life, love.”

Cash watched as he walked away, his body trembling as he wrapped his arms around himself. “d-don’t,” he breathed, shaking his head as the tears fell freely. “don’t go.”

Portugal turned, smiling solemnly. “It’s fer the best, love. Yer young. You’ll ferget me soon enough.”

Cash remained frozen where he stood as he watched Portugal leave, tears staining his face. “i won’t,” he whispered to himself, even as his voice cracked and his chest squeezed painfully around his soul. “i’ll never forget you.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblrs are [@alicedragons](https://alicedragons.tumblr.com/) for art and fic reblogs, and [@dragonfics](https://dragonfics.tumblr.com/) for fic updates and drabbles if anyone's interested. (Both are NSFW, so please do not follow if you're under 18).


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